Friday, March 30, 2018

The Greatest Sho on Sno (Ya Kno)

After a bust Birkie 2017
cancellation, this year was looking good with decent snow and arctic temps in
Northern Wisconsin for most of the winter. The journey to Cheeseland
begins Friday just over a week before Birkie race day. With Carson and
Lucy in college now, the ski bag was relatively lightly packed with 5 pairs of
skis and poles and Kyler’s boots plus ample fleece padding, no sweat. The
3 hour flight to Minneapolis was smooth as was our 4 hour drive to stop number
one at Sue’s sister Marcia and husband Leif’s house in Richland Center,
including of course a quick stop for fresh cheese curds.

We wake up to a normal 10F February
Wisconsin morning as opposed to last year’s surreal temps in the mid
60’s. After a fun crust ski on the local golf course we head out to the
farm for lunch. The farm is almost 300 acres of restoration agriculture
home to Sue’s niece Maureen, husband Peter and daughter Tilia. We are
greeted by them, a herd of cows, 4 dogs, their 7 puppies, a herd of sheep and
some chickens roaming in the background. We enjoy a hearty all organic
lunch and head back to Marcia and Leif’s to relax, snack on cheese curds and
enjoy some Olympic viewing before the whole gang arrives for yet another full
course meal.

Sunday morning is another crust ski
around the local fairways followed by a stack of fresh pancakes. Then
it’s time to pack up and head over to my parents in Middleton, which is a quick
hour plus hop away. We re-stock on cheese curds and arrive just in time
to go out for a nice Mexican dinner celebrating my Mom’s birthday, followed by
more Olympic viewing. Monday the temps are now warming above freezing and
we ski on the remains of the local man-made loop in Madison. The tiny
loops on transformed snow make us feel right at home. We visit Sue’s
parents at the new home they are moving into and also stop in to see our
friends the Barfords who now live in Madison. Add in the obligatory
Olympic viewing for a full day. Tuesday we hit the lanes for some regular
big ball bowling, not the odd New England candlepin nonsense. I will brag
a bit that I rolled a 195 on our second game including a competition crushing 5
strikes in a row. Unfortunately from a cross training perspective,
bowling doesn’t exactly translate to 50K’s of xc skiing. Maybe the IOC
will add the Bowlathlon, big balls transitioning to skinny skis, to the next
Winter Olympics. Wednesday arrives quickly and it’s time to pack up and
head North to stop number three on our Midwest tour.

A scenic 5 hour drive to the North
including another cheese curd re-fueling, and we arrive at the “Fox Den” house
on Teal Lake in Hayward Wisconsin. The snowpack rises as we travel, a
comforting sight compared to last year’s brown dearth of snow. Sue’s
parents are already settled in and we enjoy one chill evening before Birkie
fever rises. Thursday am Sue and I finally put our skis onto Birkie trail
snow, the temperature just rising out of the single digits. We are nearly
alone on the snowy highway of a trail, and it’s hard to image it full of skiers
stacked 3 by 3 as far as you can see. We meet Sue’s parents at the Angry
Minnow Brew Pub where Birkie fever runs hot. Nordic styles from around
the country are on display and the taps flow as steady as the stories.
Next stop is the Birkie Expo to get our numbers and check out the expo, which
is a complete logjam. After waiting in the traffic to park and waiting in
line to get our numbers we finally escape with our schwag and just enough time
to grab coffee, transfer Kyler to Sue’s parents and turn the car back South to
pick up Carson in Eau Claire. Another 4 hour drive complete, we arrive
with Carson back at the Fox Den where Leif, daughter Maureen and her daughter
TIlia have also settled in. Next to arrive is Lars, then Marcia, Anika
and her baby Layla. The Fox Den is full up and it’s time to wax up Kyler
and Carson for the Korte 29K tomorrow morning. A few Sam’s and a few
layers of Swix VR40/VR45 later our day is complete, whew.

We are greeted by around 5 inches
of fresh snow Friday morning, so some quick shoveling work is needed to send Sue
on her way with our Korte skiers Marcia, Carson and Kyler. Leif and I
continue the shoveling, push out one stuck car, shovel more, push the same car
out once more and finally get some breakfast. I guess this will be my
Birkie pre-race tune up with a full day lined up. Sue arrives back at Fox
Den and we book back out to the Korte course to catch Kyler at around 19K at
Mosquito Brook. We park, jog to the course, cheer from the snowy sideline
along with many other cowbell wielding spectators as Kyler skis by. Then
it’s a dash back to the car drive to the finish line parking and jog to the
finish stuffing in a lunch sandwich en route. The finish is in full
celebration mode with people and cowbells everywhere. Kyler slows in the
last K’s, but finishes with a flourish followed by Carson and Marcia who
started in later waves. We all pack up and return to the Fox Den where
the pre-Birkie wax marathon. (Layers of Toko LF Moly, HF Red, HF Blue/Red
mixed and pure flour ironed in) I wrap up the waxing just in time to
watch the sun slowly setting over Teal Lake followed by pasta, pre-race packing
and finally bed.

Race morning arrives pre-dawn after
a fitful night for all with munchkin noises and pre-race restlessness.
The only thing I loathe more than crowds are too early mornings, which the
Birkie always brings along with my third peeve, uncomfortable bus rides.
Some among us are perky morning people, not me, but the greatest sho on sno
awaits us. Leif, Sue and I drive out with the temp hovering around 0F and
ghostly bands of hoar frost fog floating in the valleys. The way too
chipper doubya oh jay be (WOJB 88.9 FM) morning gal greets us with “plenty a
sno and just the best day fer thohs Birkie skiers!”. We park in the
shuttle bus lot, bundle into the nearest school bus and emerge in Cable at the
start line of the Birkie. We check out the “warming” tent and building
for any space, but the masses are descending wave by bus wave. We manage
to find some hot chocolate, a slot near a table to lean on and down our final
energy foods. After a quick picture, race time is fast approaching and we
part ways. I strip down to race gear really hoping that the temp rises
out of the single digits and throw my race bag into the wave 1 truck. I’m
behind schedule and race over to my wave 1 corral 3 late, jog directly into
corral 2, join the mad sprint into the final start corral and somehow get
myself into the 4-6th row of around 700 rabid skiers. I think
my experience in Boston traffic helped here. The announcer counts down
10,9,8… and FINALLY it’s

time to ski!

Immediately after double poling out
of our single tracked lanes and out onto the course, people start trying to
skate with no space and the gumby piles begin. I get stuck navigating
around one that’s too close for comfort, but I can see at least 2 other mini
globs of tangled skiers a safe enough distance away. Trying to win the
Birkie in the first K of 50 from wave 1 is just not an Einstein move.
Gradually we climb the rolling powerline hills and the skis feel good, not
cheater rocket skis like our local Toko rep, but Lake Wobegon skis, as in above
average. The trail narrows as we glide deeper into the woods, and I fall
in line with the flow of skiers snaking South to Hayward. We top out
after 13K on fire tower hill, the highest point on the trail, if only it were a
smooth gradual slope to the finish.

After a couple short roller
downhills, we hit snowmobiler curve, a fast fall away left hander lined by the
locals on their machines to witness the carnage. The new snow has been
“groomed” into inside and outside lanes. I start with the inside, but
carry too much speed and switch outside which throws my skis around a bit and
leads to a bit of flailing. The sled heads start whooping with
excitement, but groan when I manage to pull it all back together. No
worries, 5 seconds after I navigate the corner a huge cheer goes up behind me
as another one bites the dust or powder in this case. The course
constantly undulates up and down until the big aid station at highway OO, which
hits at 28K or so. I’m feeling the effort of the opening hills and slam
my first gel hoping I didn’t wait too long.

The K’s after OO are truly mostly
downhill without all the rolling and body willing it is a great time to roll
out some faster splits. Luckily the gel hits the spot along with the
remnants of my Gatorade, and I have some energy. I can feel my toes and
fingers, I have plenty of space on the trail, there is fuel in the tank and the
sun is shining on the sparkling new snow. Wow, my new happy place, but
the bliss is short lived with 14K to go or so when the final set of hills
hits. I get another gel down the hatch before hitting the late climbs.

Hill #1 dubbed pre-bitch hill is
also the home of the next sled head gathering. The music is blaring, the
sled heads are partying hard and I’m offered a beer, a turn at the shot ski and
even a bite of a sandwich. I opt to abstain, so I can get over the next 3
hills without yakking. Hill #2 is bitch hill, which used to be staffed by
large Wisconsin men in drag (scary!), but now has a preacher and nuns handing
out the obligatory bhill beads and pins. As he forgives us for our
swearing he asks for an amen, “AMEN” and hallelujah “HALLELUJAH” I chime
in. Anything to get the heck over this beepin steep incline. I
approach the 3rd hill, son of a bitch, and actually feel like I can
push it, not. I put the “hammer” down for about one third of the
hill and the tank is suddenly empty. The last cheese curd flames
out in the engine, and I have to quickly switch to auxiliary power.
Luckily, the last hill, Duffy hill, is the baby of the 4, and I hold my own
knowing that the finish is less than 5K away.

Coming down Duffy hill onto Hayward
Lake is a Birkie homecoming with only 3K to go. I work hard to stay with
my small group, but the quads are now spent and pre-crampy. Pushing hard
feels like a giant 9 volt battery is bumping on my legs, so again I bring it
down a notch with the finish almost in sight. I manage to scale the last
Birkie bridge mini-hill over the highway and V2 (not pretty) to the finish of
Birkie number 22, whew! Even though I didn’t suffer the bonk this year,
the tank was empty.

After the race I change up, meet
the crew including Kyler and Sue’s parents and cheer Sue and Leif to the finish
line. Sue had a decidedly better race than me, and Leif had a less fun
race with limited training this year. Regardless, the deed is done and we
can kick back to our home for the moment at the Fox Den for a full celebration
and re-cap. Morning arrives and it’s already time to pack up once
again. Before I can fully process this adventure, we are sitting
comfortably on a plane jetting back to Boston with yet another Birkie in the
books.